If it had been nothing more than the knife, which couldn’t get past his shields, he might have let the man go with nothing more than a slap. But the Warlord unleashed a blast of power in a way that made Lucivar wonder if the young man who had died really had taken his own life.
Everything that made him a Warlord Prince responded to that lash of power. Lucivar pivoted, using Craft to extend the length of the war blade as he met the Warlord’s eyes.
The war blade sang through muscle, humbled bone.
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. For a moment, it looked like the blade hadn’t sliced anything but the man’s jacket as some of the fabric fluttered to the floor. Then blood spilled from the man’s waist, his legs buckled, and the top half of the man slid off and struck the floor. Using Craft to stand on air just above the red lake rapidly forming on the ballroom floor, Lucivar looked at the stunned crowd. “Does anyone else need a lesson?”
No answer except more screams from Blyte, but he doubted her distress had anything to do with the loss of her father and more to do with finally being punished for her own actions.
Turning toward the doorway once again, Lucivar saw Chaosti walk in with two young Rihlander men.
Daemon smiled a cold, cruel smile. Not the Sadist now. This was the High Lord of Hell.
٭You can’t leave him here to make the transition to demon-dead,٭ the High Lord said. ٭He won’t go to Hell on his own, as he should, not after you made his family’s deceits so public. Besides, one of those men deserved a chance to see the debt paid.٭ He looked at the two Warlords who carried out the upper half of the girl’s father.
Lucivar waited for Chaosti and Daemon to follow the demon-dead Warlords out of the room. Then he turned back one last time and looked at the Rihland aristos. “Every attempt to bring Terreille’s ways into Kaeleer will be met with slaughter. Spread the word that I’ll be calling on the Province Queens soon to have a little chat.”
He walked away, knowing there would be more slaughter before they believed he had drawn the line—knowing some courts would be torn apart for tacitly supporting the cruelty that had destroyed the Blood in Terreille. Knowing that, after tonight, most of the Blood in Askavi would call him the Demon Prince.
Everything had a price.
FORTY
Lucivar hadn’t appreciated how much fury had been festering under the surface of some Rihland towns and cities until several places exploded in savage fighting, as if his breaking that one bitch had been a flame dropped on tinder, freeing that fury to blaze through Askavi. The Blood in those places didn’t want his help. The Warlord Princes in those places didn’t want his Eyrien warriors coming in to settle anything. They would talk to him when the fighting was done.
For two days, he stayed at the Keep with Daemon, listening to reports as Rothvar and his other men rode the Winds throughout Askavi to get a feel for what was happening in the Rihland cities. Some Provinces were untouched by fighting. Lucivar found it grimly amusing that Daemon’s prediction had been right about the Queens who ruled those Provinces. They were the first to show up at the Keep to talk to him, bringing documents to prove they had been drawing the same line all along and that any smear on someone’s honor or reputation was something that person had deserved.
“You’re going to need help, Lucivar,” Daemon said when the sun set on that second day and they were finally alone for a few minutes. “Someone besides Marian. Someone you can trust who won’t be intimidated when dealing with Queens who wear darker Jewels.”
“Who?” Frustrated, Lucivar raked a hand through his hair. “Every Eyrien who works for me will stand with me on a killing field, but every one of them has had his fill of dealing with Queens.”
“Not to mention that most of them would rather chew off his own fingers than deal with paperwork,” Daemon said dryly.
“Andulvar didn’t have to deal with paperwork. If there was a problem, he went to that village and killed what couldn’t be fixed.”
“That might not have been how he handled things when he walked among the living,” Daemon pointed out.
They both knew he wanted to ask Daemon to deal with the paperwork—and they both knew why he couldn’t. Daemon already had enough under his hand.
“Rothvar is your second-in-command when it comes to defending Ebon Rih—and now all of Askavi. You need someone who can act as your second-in-command for the business side of ruling the Territory.”
“Someone who isn’t Eyrien or Rihland, someone who is willing to deal with paperwork and knows what is important and what is crap, someone who can’t be intimidated by darker-Jeweled Queens. Who can do that, Bastard? Tell me who I can trust who can do that.”
Lucivar looked over as the door opened, and said, “Hell’s fire.”
Karla gave him a bright smile and said, “Kiss kiss.”
FORTY-ONE
Dillon listened to the raised voices in the parlor and winced as he looked at his cousin’s pale face. “I’m sorry, Terrence. I never meant to cause trouble for your family. Is your father going to lose his position in the Riada Queen’s court?”
“Dunno.”
Seeing the misery in Terrence’s eyes, Dillon suspected that the family’s social standing in the village was going to be nonexistent because they had allowed him to stay after his aborted romance with Jillian.
With the women’s voices a shrill counterpoint to the men’s shouts, Dillon wasn’t sure he’d heard someone knock on the front door until the sound came a second time. When none of the servants appeared to answer it, Dillon opened the door.
Lucivar Yaslana stepped inside. “Lord Dillon.”
“Prince.”
Yaslana nodded to Terrence, then looked toward the parlor. He didn’t ask who was shouting or why. He just opened the parlor door and walked in—and everyone stopped talking.
The Warlord Prince of Askavi wagged a finger at Dillon and Terrence. “You two, in here.” He waited for them, then looked at the adults in the room before focusing on Dillon. “The matter has been settled. The witch who destroyed your reputation and smeared your honor has been broken back to basic Craft. Reparation will be made to every man she deceived. While your actions weren’t prudent where she was concerned, lots of young men go through a stage where they think with the head behind their zippers instead of the head above their shoulders.”
Dillon choked. Terrence wheezed.
“And if there is a man here who didn’t have sex with the woman he married before the contract was signed, let him step forward,” Yaslana continued.
No one stepped forward. Women blushed. Men studied the carpet just beyond their shoes.
Now Yaslana looked at Terrence’s father. “It will take a couple more days before arrangements can be made to send Lord Dillon to the court he’s chosen. If you’re not comfortable having him stay with you, I’ll arrange to have him stay at The Tavern.”
“No, no. Better for the boy to be with his family.”
“I agree, but you might be criticized for that compassion, and I wouldn’t want obliging me to cause problems for you.” He looked around the room. “But if you do have problems, I want to know, because what happened to Lord Dillon could have happened to anyone’s son, and that is something your neighbors shouldn’t forget.”
Dillon and Terrence walked out with him. At the front door, Yaslana paused. “You make a decision yet?”
“Almost,” Dillon replied. “I decided against the two courts in Scelt. Not that I wouldn’t like to visit there someday, but I can’t imagine living in a place overrun by dogs who poke their noses into everyone’s business.”
Yaslana huffed out a laugh and muttered something that sounded like “May the Darkness have mercy on me.”